


Welcome to Seoul, Shank

by LadyJanriel



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Minho is a smug little shit, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5723590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJanriel/pseuds/LadyJanriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minho isn't keen on the idea of having a stranger stay in their home, even if he is a family friend. He's also not looking forward to having to babysit the kid, because let's face it, that's exactly what his mother intends for him to do. But maybe it won't be so bad?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Seoul, Shank

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended this to be just a one off and that's why this first part ends the way it does, but after working on Thominho Hercules today, I realized I kinda missed this universe.
> 
> So I'm going to continue it and build up their relationship to reach the anon requests I received on tumblr. The rating will change to Mature or possibly explicit because of the end game love scene, but until then, enjoy the fluff!

Minho wasn’t happy with his parents’ decision in letting a complete stranger into their home, even if it was only for a few weeks. The Lee’s had been friends to the O’Brien’s ever since before Minho was born, and yet, because of their distance, Minho had never gotten to know the boy his parents spoke so fondly of. What he knew of Thomas were the basics: he was a scrawny kid with a penchant for trouble and headed for a successful future. 

His mother often gushed about the boy’s educational excellence, to the point Minho grew jealous of this unknown child’s reputation. He was a smart kid too, it wasn’t his fault his teachers couldn’t handle his snark!

“He’ll be arriving tomorrow morning,” his mother smiled as she smoothed down the freshly washed linen of the guest bed. “Your father has to work early tomorrow, so he won’t be able to pick him up.”

“Let me guess, you want me to.” The boy grumbled. He leaned against the door frame of the guest bedroom, arms crossed and shoulders tense.

“Don’t sound so annoyed Minho,” his mother chided. “You will like Thomas! He’s such a good boy. The top of his class too.”

“Gee, I like him already.” He drawled. “Sounds like the life of the party.”

She rolled her eyes but chose not to comment.

* * *

It was almost four in the damn morning when Minho found himself waiting in the airport for Thomas. He yawned, tired from the disturbed sleep and irritated for having to be the one to bring the stranger home. It wasn’t like Minho was the one to suggest Thomas study abroad, let alone Seoul of all places.

Minho’s family planned on returning to Los Angeles once his father was done with business here, having Thomas study here during the duration of their stay had been his mother’s idea. She and Mrs. O’Brien had been friends since childhood. They grew up practically as neighbors, went to the same elementary and high school and ended up sharing a dorm for a few years in college. Minho had only ever seen Mrs. O’Brien once in his life and that had been when he was very, very small. He could barely remember what the woman looked like now save for the color of her eyes. And now, because of that friendship, she had entrusted his family with her only son. 

Minho stifled another yawn, his eyes itching and teary. He held up a sign with Thomas’ name and muttered obscenities in his mother tongue. Did the kid even know their language? He had to if he wanted to study here. The thought of pranking the boy crossed Minho’s mind. If he didn’t speak their language, having Minho speak to him in nothing but Korean would be a nightmare. 

He grew giddy from the thought. He hoped the kid wasn’t as bright as his mother said he is.

Nearly twenty minutes of waiting, Minho finally spotted the face of the stranger who would share his living space for the next few weeks. Thomas was a short boy for his age, with a map of messy brown hair and a splattering of moles across his left cheek. He had those big doe brown eyes that made Minho’s breath hitch and the cutest damn nose he had ever seen. The boy brightened at the sight of Minho and came hurrying down the stairs to join him.

“You must be Minho!” He said in English. “My mom told me so much about you! It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

Is this kid for real? Minho scanned the boy from head to toe. He wasn’t all that extravagant but he was cute, like a puppy. There was something sweet and innocent about him that made Minho feel lecherous. He felt like a villain ready to kidnap a beautiful princess – and he wasn’t sure why.

He smiled impishly.

He threw an arm around the shorter male and grabbed his luggage. “Welcome to Seoul, Thomas.” He greeted in Korean. A part of him nearly giggled in glee at the look of panic that flashed across Thomas’ face.  
“Hope you have a great time here. It’s a beautiful place.”

“Yes! I’m really looking for to it!” he replied fluently.

Minho scowled. Touché Thomas. You do know the language.

Thomas watched his host warily. “S-sorry. Did I get it wrong? I’m still learning so—“

“Nah, you’re good. I was just disappointed. I had this whole plan about being your tour guide and translating the language for you because you look like the type who’d get adorably frustrated.” He had meant it was a joke, just another way to test the boy’s personality, but the way Thomas’ cheeks burned red both surprised and amused him.

A devilish thought crossed Minho’s mind then, one that made a terrible smile stretch across his lips. 

Thomas blinked up at him curiously, the expression so terribly cute, something primal inside Minho wanted to devour the brunet right then and there.

You know what Thomas? I think we’re going to get along just fine.” He snickered, holding the boy close. “Perfectly fine.”

“Yeah?” The boy questioned.

“Oh yes.” Minho grinned. He led the younger male out of the airport, his thoughts devising a terrible, yet oh-so-delicious plan.

* * *

His home was only a fifteen minute ride from the airport, which meant Minho had plenty of time to get to know Thomas. Out of all the questions he asked, only three things stuck out in his mind.

For starters, the boy was terribly adorable. Thomas was a classic American tourist in Seoul; the sights and sounds of the city marveled and delighted him. It took them nearly ten minutes to get to the car because of Thomas’ bad habits of wandering off or getting distracted by something particularly shiny. Minho often found himself wondering how long it would take for the younger male to whip his neck out of shape with all the open gawking he made. There was one instance Thomas whipped his head so fast, Minho heard those bone’s snap, and yet Thomas hadn’t reacted. At least, not until five minutes later when he turned again and nearly screeched in pain.

The second thing he noticed was Thomas’ accent in both English and Korean. He wasn’t well versed in Korean as Minho suspected. Certain words he pronounced incorrectly, to the point it was almost comical if it didn’t sound so insulting. His accent in English was a different story. He didn’t sound quite like Minho suspected a New Yorker would—that was no surprise. Minho learned Thomas was a New Jersey native. Born and raised in some town in Jersey, Thomas didn’t live in New York City until his late teens. It was no wonder his words were pronounced differently. (Minho was born in Seoul, South Korea, but, like Thomas, he spent a large portion of his childhood in Los Angeles, California.) It wasn’t much of a difference, but Minho still teased him. Thomas cheeks turned so red, Minho could practically feel the heat radiating from the boy’s skin.

He quite liked it.

Lastly, Minho learned Thomas was single. He wasn’t sure why this information was a vital fact in getting to know the stranger, but he had asked and now he knew. And for whatever reason, he really liked knowing.

“So no girlfriend back in New York, huh?”

“No. I was too busy with school that I didn’t have the time for girlfriends.”

“I guess that’s true for boyfriends then?”

Thomas spluttered, his pale cheeks pink again. Minho glanced sideways, enjoying the view.

“I—uh—y-yeah.” He licked his lips. “N-no boyfriends. No time. No dating.” He shrugged awkwardly.

Minho quirked an eyebrow. “Bisexual Thomas?” He teased. “My, my. How devilish.”

His companion continued to fluster.

“I take it you’re a virgin?”

The shade of red on the brunet’s face was impressive. Thomas continued to struggle for words while Minho cruised along the dark road. He stole a glance of the awakening sky; the warm hues of pink, red and orange filled him with annoyance.

It was going to be a nightmare to get his sleep schedule back on track.

“Th-that’s personal!” Thomas finally huffed, his thin lips forming into a frown. “Can we talk about something else please?”

“Okay shank. Like what?”

“Shank?”

Minho gave him a lazy smile. “Yeah, shank. My nickname for you.”

Thomas furrowed his brows again. “What the hell is a ‘shank’?” 

They pulled up to the house just as Thomas whipped out a tiny language dictionary from his pocket. “Is that a Korean term?” He flipped through the pages with impressive speed.

Minho plucked the dictionary out of the boy’s grasp and flung it haphazardly into the backseat.

“Hey--!”

“You won’t find that in any book, shank.” He grinned. “It’s a word I made up for myself.” He drew uncomfortable close to Thomas and marveled at the boy’s audacity. He didn’t move away like Minho expected him to. Instead, he stood his ground, their faces so close, Thomas’ pointed nose nearly brushed Minho’s. He could feel the boy’s hot breath ghost across his full lips. It smelled like cinnamon.

Minho plastered on another smug smirk and relished the way Thomas eyes flickered to his lips. His tongue darted out teasingly, slowly moistening the thin skin. Thomas’ eyes focused on his movements, entranced.

“Welcome to Seoul, shank. Hope you enjoy your stay because you and I? We’re going to be roommates.”

He was tempted to cut the distance between them. Thomas’ lips seemed so inviting; so soft. Luscious. They needed to be kissed; to be licked and nipped. Minho wanted to caress them, to run a calloused thumb across his bottom lip that seemed fuller than the top.

He wanted to claim them for reasons he didn’t understand. There was a lot of things about Thomas that he wanted to do, and it surprised him how badly the desire burned in his blood. And yet…

He pulled away.

Something flashed in Thomas’ eyes, something akin to… disappointment?

Was he… ? Minho stopped himself from thinking. He filed the thoughts for later and exited the car.

* * *

His mother was awake when they entered. She gushed in a high pitched squeal and whisked Thomas into her arms. Minho hung back, watching his mother smother the boy with motherly kisses. She shoved his bags into Minho’s unsuspecting hands and led the boy upstairs to the guestroom.

“You must be so exhausted from your trip.” She frowned, patting the boy’s cheeks.” My, my, look at those dark circles. Come, let’s get you ready to sleep. How is New York? How’s your mom? I have to let her know you made it safely before she worries!” 

“Is she even up?” Minho questioned. He dumped the boy’s bags at the corner of the room with a heavy thud. “It’s like a fourteen hour difference, isn’t it?”

“She should still be up,” Thomas smiled amiably. “It’s four in the afternoon there.”

Minho rolled his eyes.

“I have to call her.” The woman whirled to her son, dark eyes suddenly sharp. “Help Thomas with whatever he needs okay? Make him feel at home. I’ll be right back.”

She left the room before Minho could comment.

“Your mom is really nice.”

Minho blinked. He turned back to Thomas, the younger male watching him. He stood awkwardly by the bed, his fingers tapping against his jeans. That was another thing Minho noticed about him, the boy seemed to be constantly moving. His leg, his fingers’ Minho had yet to see Thomas just… relax. (Then again, he couldn’t blame him. Minho had done nothing but get in his face since his arrival.)

“She really likes you.”

“I noticed.” Thomas smiled warmly. “I like her too.”

“So shank—“ Thomas’ gorgeous grin turned into a scowl. – “This’ll be your room. Mine is right next door and my parents are down the hall.” He gestured to the doorway as though Thomas could see through walls. 

“So if you have a nightmare or if you want to cuddle, I’m literally right through the wall. Unless you want to sleep with my parents, though I’m not sure how that would work out.” He snickered at his own joke. 

Thomas rolled his eyes.

Minho turned on his heel before Thomas could say anything more and sauntered out of the room. He felt the boy’s eyes follow him out.

Minho still felt sleep deprived after his nap, but it was nothing compared to the sleepy faced Thomas who stumbled into the kitchen. With his hair tousled from sleep, his brown eyes barely open and his clothes disheveled, the half-awake brunet before him made something primal stir deep within Minho. Thomas gave his host a barely audible greeting as he plopped down on the chair. His head crashed onto the table with a painful sounding clunk. 

Minho chuckled. “Good afternoon Sleeping Beauty. Did you dream of me?”

He heard the boy snort. He shot him a dirty look before he straightened himself again. 

“No. I had a dream about an old friend.”

Minho felt his muscles tighten; something sick, vile and poisonous pooled into his stomach. He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought you didn’t have time for any lovers, shank.”

“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love someone.”

His heart skipped a beat, that same sickening feeling worsening. He clenched the mug full of coffee as a distraction. It wouldn’t do to scare the boy for something he couldn’t control.

Minho tried to keep his expression playful and intrigued, but the corners of his mouth ached to scowl. He didn’t understand why this bothered him so much.

“Really? Did you dream about fucking her, shank?”

Thomas spluttered. 

Minho bristled. “So you did.”

“N-no! God, Minho, it’s not even—its comp—why am I even explaining myself to you? It’s none of your business!”

Something snapped in him. Before either of them knew it, Minho lurched toward Thomas and pinned him against the wall with all the strength he could muster. Surprise washed into Thomas’ eyes before fear took over. Minho held him down with his forearm, the other hand flat against the wall beside Thomas’ head. He leaned in close, dark eyes sharp with rage that didn’t belong.

“Maybe it is my business, Thomas! He growled, the sound guttural. Feral. It startled him how alien and angry he sounded.

He leaned in closer, feeling the boy’s hot breath on his lips. “Maybe I don’t like the idea of you dreaming about other people.”

“W-why?”

Minho watched Thomas’ pink tongue dart across those delicious, untouched lips. 

He pulled away and suddenly smiled. “Hell if I know dude! I’m just messin’ with ya.” He laughed. “Should have seen your face. You were so scared.”

There it was again, that look of something flashing in those baby doe eyes.

“You’re an asshole, Minho.” Thomas grumbled.

“I’m so glad you realize that.” He draped an arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders and pulled him close. “Let’s go grab lunch and head out. There’s a lot of Seoul to see!”

The exuberant smile that split Thomas’ face stole Minho’s breath away.

Shuck me. This kid is too cute. He groaned.

* * *

There was so much to do; so many things to see in Seoul -- Thomas wanted to do everything he could before his trip was over. And that was fine and dandy to Minho, the only problem was: Thomas wanted to do everything in a day.

The first place they went to was Gyeongbokgung palace, a historical place rich with beauty and history, Minho felt it was a befitting place to start with. They tour they went on kept Thomas on his toes. He took so many pictures Minho felt embarrassed being with him, he felt like a tourist in his own homeland, complete with Thomas wearing an outdated fanny pack that did absolutely nothing for his outfit.

(Minho wanted to rip it off so badly. The only thing that kept him from doing so was the fact it was so close to Thomas’ crotch, Minho didn’t want to accidentally cop a feel.)

The longer they toured, the more incessant Thomas’ camera clicking away became. The brunet looked like a stereotypical American tourist, snapping up pictures left and right without a damn care in the world.  
Minho gritted his teeth.

He snatched the camera away after the umpteenth click and ordered Thomas to live in the moment instead of snapping away like an irritating shank.

Thomas pouted. He tried once or twice to take the camera back from Minho’s grasp, but he eventually gave up and joined Minho on experiencing the tour – truly experiencing the majestic beauty of the palace. The smile that split across his face made Minho’s stomach flutter.

He grimaced, feeling a mixture of sickness and elation.

I can’t with this kid. 

The next place they went to was the shopping district.

“Stay close shank, I don’t want you to end up lost and—“ Minho turned to grab Thomas’ hand but was met with empty air. “Thomas? Thomas!” He caught sight of Thomas disappearing into a clothing shop. A scowl formed on his face.

“This shucking shank…” He grumbled.

Thomas was worse than house training a pup. Minho could barely keep track of the boy; he constantly lost him in crowds and only found him just when he was about to blow his money off on useless knick knacks and trinkets. Taking Thomas to the shopping distract had been the worst idea he could ever come up with. Thomas couldn’t stay focused and Minho was fed up with the boy’s tourist mentality. 

In their seventh visit to a shop, Minho dragged Thomas out of the store by the crook of his arm. He headed toward the station, grumbling and muttering under his breath.

“Minho come on!” Thomas whined. “It’s not every day you get to see Seoul!”

“You’ll be here for three weeks shanks, that’s plenty enough time to see the sights.” Minho scowled. “You don’t have to bust my nuts on your first day.”

“This might be my only chance.” He pouted. Thomas accommodated his arm in the boy’s grip. Instead of Minho holding tight to his bicep, Thomas slipped his hand into the older male’s grip for better leverage. 

Minho’s brows twitched. He glanced toward their linked hands, their fingers interlaced in the ways lovers would; Thomas’ palm warm and homely beneath his. He decided not to comment. It felt… comfortable and… right, like that’s where it belonged.

He pushed the thought aside.

“Thomas, I promise I’ll show you all of Seoul before you go back to New York, okay? I just need you to trust me. And besides, whatever we can’t fit in three weeks, I’ll show you again when you come back for college, alright?”

Thomas sighed heavily. “Okay.” The downward quirk of his lips made him look childish to Minho’s eyes. “But don’t forget. I‘m really trusting you on this.”

Minho grinned. “I won’t. Now, let me take you somewhere to eat.”

* * *

Minho was dead on his feet by the time they returned home. Babysitting Thomas was worse than watching his cousins after visiting the toy store; Thomas absolutely refused to stay in one spot and despite his adorable childlike behavior, Minho wanted to murder the even loving-klunk out of the shank. He took Thomas to one last tourist attraction before calling it quits – it was a museum of some kind. Minho thought it would be an easy trip.

He thought wrong.

He had to drag the boy out of e building before Thomas could embarrass them again.

“Minho!”

“Shut up shank, we’re going home.”

Now, in the quiet sanctity of his home, Minho collapsed onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Thomas watched him, amused.

“How was your day, boys?” His mother called. She poked her head from the kitchen, her almond eyes wide with curiosity.

Minho exhaled insufferably. 

“Terrible. I lost Thomas, like, ten times.”

“I had a blast.” The brunet beamed. 

“Yeah, sure you did.” Minho growled. “Is it too late to send this hank to New York? Because I’m thirty seconds away from shipping his butt back to his sender.”

“Hey!”

His mother chuckled. “Be nice to our guest, Minho. It would break my heart if it turned out you boys don’t get along.” She pouted.

Minho rolled his eyes. “Oh, we get along alright.” He grinned darkly.

Thomas quirked an eyebrow. 

“M-Minho…?”

Before Thomas could register what was happening, Minho bolted from the couch. He scooped the boy over his shoulder and carried him up the stairs, laughing like a maniacal villain in a cheesy 80s cartoon.

Thomas screeched, surprised and terrified.

“Minho! Not cool! Let me down, Minho!!” He wiggled in Minho’s girp and kicked out with his legs, but Minho held on. He dumped the bot onto Thomas’ mattress and straddled him. He pinned Thomas’ arms above his head, his face close and red from the exertion.

Thomas gulped, brown eyes wide. Minho was so close, his hot breath ghosted over the brunet’s lips.

Minho hesitated.

His heart was hammering. He blamed it on the sprint up the stairs with Thomas’ added weight; the boy wasn’t heavy exactly, but he wasn’t easy to carry either, especially when he struggled.

Yeah, that’s right – Minho’s racing heart had nothing to do with the positions they were in or the startled, slightly hopeful look in Thomas’ brown eyes. 

Hopeful? No, no that was curiosity. Definitely curiosity.

This was Thomas’ first day in Seoul, there was no way he was interested in anything more than just… he was just curious damn it! And confused. Definitely confused.

Minho pulled away, his cheeks flushed – from the run. 

“Well, that was fun.” He laughed, breathlessly. “Scared ya shitless huh?”

Thomas’ rosy face formed into a scowl.

“Yeah, hah hah Minho.” 

“That’s what you get for tiring me out today.” 

Thomas huffed. “Same time tomorrow?” 

Minho climbed off the boy, a mixture of emotions swirling in his gut. He forced out a smirk then said, “Yeah shank, same time tomorrow.”

He left Thomas to his own devices after that, his mind abuzz with the boy’s reaction.

* * *

Having Thomas in his home made Minho irritable. He took Thomas out almost every day to see the sights. They ate together, explored the city limits and took so many pictures it was a wonder how Minho could even still see. Thomas’ first week in Seoul was a tourist’s dream and Minho was so sick and tired that he had nightmares about cameras and shoes trying to eat him.

The worst of it all was Thomas’ excitement. He was so cute and excited, Minho wanted to smother him. He wanted to wrap that boy up in a blanket and covet him from the world. He accidentally snapped on his father a few days ago for wanting to take Thomas to the movies. (He still didn’t understand why he had done that. His father was just being nice.)

Now, Thomas was in the guest room, video chatting with friends while Minho grumpily stood outside the broom door, trying his best not to eavesdrop but failing spectacularly.

“I’m having a really great time, Brenda. Minho’s a great host.” He heard the boy say. Minho grew smug. He had no idea what Brenda looked like, but he pictured a pretty girl with long flowing locks of hair and seductive blue eyes that could charm any man she set her eyes on. He scowled. 

He hated her already.

“You sure do talk a lot about this Minho kid,” the voice teased. She had a nice voice; kinda husky and sultry. A faint accent insinuated some of her words in the same way Minho could sometimes hear Thomas’ New York accent. It sounded like she spoke another language. Spanish maybe? Brenda sounded like a Spanish name.

If it weren’t for the fact that Minho hated her guts, he might have gotten along with her.

That made him dislike her more.

“Is he cute? Is he single?”

“Jesus Brenda, keep it in your pants.” Thomas chuckled. “Yeah, I think he’s single.”

“But is he cute?”

“Yeah, I guess when you think about it.”

He heard her laugh. “Are you blushing?”

“What? No! Ew, Brenda!”

The girl laughed harder. Minho pressed himself further into the wall, suddenly interested in their conversation.

“Don’t “ew” me Thomas! I think you like him!”

“He’s my host.”

“So? For what it’s worth, I think he likes you too.”

“Oh come on.”

“He does!”

Minho tuned them out, his thoughts swirling. This chick didn’t know what she was talking about. Minho rolled his eyes. With a quiet huff, he stalked back to his bedroom and silently shut the door.

He dreamt about Thomas that night.

* * *

He took Thomas out to breakfast then showed him the university they would be attending sometime next month. Minho wasn’t much for conversation, his mind still preoccupied with thought of Thomas.  
The boy in question didn’t seem to notice his served behavior. He chatted on about one thing or another; briefly mentioned Brenda’s name and talked about the classes he wanted to attend during his stay in Seoul. Minho followed him on auto pilot, nodding and humming on random intervals.

They stopped in front of the building, eyeing the towering bell.

“This place is gorgeous.” Thomas murmured. “I’m really excited to go here.”

“Yeah,” Minho mumbled. “So who’s Brenda?”

Thomas tensed. Minho suspected it had something to do with the tone of his voice rather than the question itself. He had meant to sound like a nonchalant joke, instead it came out more like a bitter and jealous boyfriend.

(He wasn’t jealous and he wasn’t bitter. And they certainly weren’t dating!)

Thomas licked his lips. “She’s a friend.”

“A girlfriend?”

“Well, she is a girl and she’s a friend soo…” He trailed off with a shrug.

Minho bristled. He draped an arm around Thomas’ shoulders and dug his knuckles deep into the boy’s scalp.

“Don’t you get sassy with me ya slint-head!”

“Ow! Oww! Minho!!”

“Who’s this chick to you?!”

“She’s my friend!” Thomas whined.

Minho released him, dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Yeah? Just a friend?”

Thomas rubbed his head, an irritated scowl on his face. 

“Yes Minho, a friend! You don’t have to get so jealous about it.”

“Who says I’m jealous?” He scoffed. “You’re just a shank.”

“Oh please!” Thomas laughed harshly. Minho resisted the urge to give his companion another harsh noogie. He wasn’t a fan of Thomas’ attitude right now, even if it did make him thirty times more adorable than usual. “You’ve been crushing on me since the day I arrived! You’re jealous, Min. Admit it. You want me.”

Minho turned to Thomas then, his expression stony. He wanted to retort; throw a joke to deflect the tension that filled the air between them, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate. He was tongued tied.  
In his usual Thomas fashion, Thomas took Minho’s silence as a victory. He smiled smugly, igniting something deep within Minho’s gut.

“See? You know I’m right. You can’t even – why are you smiling?”

He hadn’t noticed it, but Minho found himself practically sneering. The expression on his face dark and dangerous, like a villain who had discovered his opponent’s weakness. Thomas tensed, uncertainty flashing in his doe brown eyes.

“M-Minho…?”

Minho closed the gap between them before Thomas could blink. He pulled the boy into his arms and captured his lips before Thomas could protest. They were luscious against his, slightly chapped from the weather but still soft and oh-so delicious. Thomas tasted like the peppermint gum he’d been chewing earlier.

Minho pulled away, breathless and pink.

“Yeah shank, I want ya. I’m stupidly attracted to your stupidly adorable face and your klunk-for-brains tourist mentality. You’re so shucking cute, it drives me crazy.”

He kissed him again, feeling the brunet’s muscles melt in his arms.

“And I know you’re just as stupidly interested so don’t go acting like you’re high and mighty when you’re the shank getting disappointed I’m not making the moves.” He grinned, pecking Thomas on the lips again. “I seriously just want to ravish you, but…” Minho pulled away, relishing the flustered expression on Thomas’ face. (The way his tongue ran across kiss swollen lips almost made Minho forget what he wanted to say.)

“I’m not going to. Not yet anyway. There’s more of Seoul to see and I know you’ll probably try to kill me if we waste any time on that.”

Thomas exhaled slowly, an atrociously adorable pout forming on his lips. 

“You’re a tease, Min.”

“Damn right I am, shank! I am so glad you realize that now.” Minho grabbed his hand with a devilish grin. “Now, let’s tour the college and gross people out with our affection and obnoxious tourist stereotyping.”

Thomas laughed, the sound purely angelic in Minho’s ears.

 _Shuck me, Thomas turned me into a sap in less than a week._ Minho sighed internally. _This kid… is everything._

**Author's Note:**

> 9/29/16 Edit: I decided to end it here until I get inspiration to continue. I don't have my original notes for this story ;w; but thank you for reading!


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